Blood
by Lomax343
Summary: Down on her luck, Red Sonja decides to replenish her purse by looting a temple. This she accomplishes easily enough, but finds that she was not the only one to break in that night. Fleeing with the spoils, she finds that her new companion has a side that Sonja hadn't suspected. One thing is for certain; there will be blood. But whose?
1. Sonja is in need of funds

**BLOOD **

**I**

Red Sonja reached into her pouch and cursed. It was empty. The innkeeper grimaced and clapped his hands. Two large men materialised from a corner of the room and stood behind him, stern expressions on their faces.

Silence fell, and heads turned to watch the fun. Jevon wasn't known for his tolerance of those that couldn't pay. His enforcers had, over the years, made this painfully clear to many. They had explained the house rules with painful simplicity to a number of transgressors, before ejecting them into the street where, so tradition had it, the number of times the victim bounced was an indicator of the size of the unpaid debt. The fact that Jevon's enforcers were about to eject a woman – and a singularly striking one at that – made this something not to be missed.

Red Sonja smiled at Jevon. "Don't worry – I've got a reserve." She crossed her right leg over her left knee (causing more than one neck to crane in search of a more interesting view) and unlashed her boot. Pulling it off, she up-ended it over the table and shook it. Two small coins fell out.

Sonja gave an apologetic shrug. "I'm afraid they're not as fragrant as you might wish," she said.

If he was in any way amused by this remark, Jevon didn't let it show. He picked up the coins and examined them. "This will cover the food you've had, and the ale you've drunk," he told Sonja, "and the stabling for your horse, since I'm feeling inclined to be generous. But not the room you've asked for."

Sonja didn't argue. "Do you object to me sleeping in the stable?" she asked.

"Stable or street – it's all the same to me," Jevon said. "But you can be on your way in the morning – and no breakfast." He paused to see if Sonja cared to voice any objections. When it was clear that she didn't, he turned on his heel. His enforcers followed him, looking disappointed.

Sonja pulled her boot back on, then leant back in her chair, tankard in hand. She knew what to expect, and looked round the room, trying to guess who it would be. In so doing, she found her gaze sharply held by a woman at a table by the far wall. A woman still wrapped in the folds of a cloak, and with the hood still up; but whose eyes suggested a keen mind that never missed a thing. Red Sonja raised her eyebrows in a questioning manner, but the woman remained inscrutable.

The woman shared a table with two men whose olive skin and raven-black hair suggested that they came from the East. They were armed, Sonja noticed, and gave the impression of being able to look after themselves. One of them began to get to his feet, but the woman put her hand on his arm, and he sat back down without comment. It was clear who was in command.

"Do you mind if I join you?"

Sonja blinked. A man _had_ approached her table. Annoyed with herself for being so distracted that she hadn't noticed his arrival, Sonja didn't answer. The man sat down anyway.

"My name's Falin," he told her. "And you are?"

"Sonja. Red Sonja." Her tone was steady; she knew what was going to happen. She had no objection to male company in general. Hers was a solitary life, but that didn't mean she always wanted to be alone. Good ale, interesting conversation, songs - dancing even; these were pleasures she allowed herself, even craved sometimes. But she had set certain boundaries, and all too often some man would try to cross them. Yes, she knew what was going to happen next.

"Down on your luck?" Falin asked her.

"It's not the first time, and I don't suppose it will be the last."

"Luck can change." Falin smiled. "Jevon," he called, "two more ales over here. I'm paying."

"I prefer to buy my own," Sonja told him.

"That doesn't seem to be an option at the moment," Falin observed, clearly under the impression that he'd just said something amusing, "and your tankard's nearly empty."

"I'll have to make it last, then." Sonja took a very small sip of her ale, as if to emphasise her intentions.

"Nonsense, my dear. Allow me."

Sonja sighed inwardly. Up until that point she'd been prepared to give Falin the benefit of the doubt. There was just a possibility that she might have misjudged him. Once he'd called her "My dear," however…

Two more tankards of ale arrived. Falin picked his up and toasted Sonja. She ignored the one set before her.

"Come along, my dear, drink and be merry." Falin took a long swallow, then leant forwards and put his hand on Sonja's knee.

The fight – if it could be called a fight – lasted two heartbeats. When it was over, the table was upside down and Falin was lying on the floor, moaning. Blood was trickling from his broken nose, but his hands were clasped over a more pressing hurt. Sonja stood over him, still holding her original tankard in her hand. She drank from it noisily, before pouring the last drops over the prone form of her would-be beau.

There was laughter and a small round of applause. The woman _had_ provided entertainment after all. Sonja glanced in the direction of Jevon, but he seemingly had no objection to customers brawling on his premises, provided they paid for their drinks first.

"Well," Red Sonja said to the room in general, "it's been a pleasant evening; but I need my beauty sleep so I'm off to the stables. And if any of you feel inclined to pay a visit during the night, ask Falin here whether he thinks that's wise."

Sonja turned on her heel and left. As she did so, she noted that the woman by the far wall hadn't moved a muscle, and her expression hadn't changed at all.


	2. Sonja visits a temple

**II**

As Sonja had remarked to Falin, spending her last coins was not a new experience. There had been a time when the way money seemed to evaporate from her pouch had puzzled her, but she'd long since resigned herself to the fact that economy was not numbered amongst her talents. Gold and silver vanished; but when they did there were ways of obtaining more. Her sword-arm had been for hire more than once in her wanderings; but only when absolutely necessary. She preferred a more direct approach when possible.

She crossed to the stables, where she checked on her horse before climbing the ladder to the hayloft. It wasn't the first such loft she'd slept in, either. This one was dry and draught-free, and was a good deal more comfortable than some places she'd lain her head. She unbuckled her sword and pulled off her boots. She made a pillow out of her cloak (beneath which she concealed her drawn dagger) and burrowed deeply into the fragrant hay. Within moments she was asleep and snoring gently.

It was still dark when she awoke. She sat up and sniffed the air. Two hours after midnight or thereabouts. One of the skills that Red Sonja, she-devil of the Hyrkanian steppes, had acquired during her years of wandering was an ability to decide in advance at what hour she would awaken.

Quietly she pulled her boots back on, re-sheathed her dagger and picked up her sword. She descended the ladder and stood at its foot, listening. The sound of a horse shifting its weight, the call of a night-bird. Nothing else. Satisfied, she untethered her horse, and led it out into the darkness.

A few minutes later she faced a high stone wall. It looked imposing at first glance, but closer inspection showed that it was crumbling with age. She felt its surface; yes, there should be handholds enough. It would be more difficult in the dark, of course, but she'd scaled mightier obstacles in her time. She hobbled her horse, stood on her saddle, and scrambled up to the top of the wall.

Sitting astride the top she paused, listening intently. No challenge, no sound of alarm within. She looked down. Below her was a courtyard of some description. It was unlit, and featureless as far as she could make out. It was also deserted. Sonja lowered herself to the full reach of her arms, hung motionless for a heartbeat or two, then dropped the last few feet.

She landed silently, and paused again, straining her senses. No challenge, no cries of alarm. Good, clearly the Gods were with her this night. The thought made her smile wanly. One might have expected the Gods to have been angry with her. She was, after all, about to plunder a temple. A temple dedicated to – well, she hadn't troubled herself to find out which particular God was invoked by worshippers at ceremonies held within; but it was clearly a lesser deity than those which watched over her. Assuming that any actually did.

She shook her head slightly. Deep thoughts were rarely useful. This was merely a temple like so many others. She'd noted it as she'd ridden into town; and since temples were, in her experience, crammed with loot, it was the obvious place for her to re-fill her pouch.

Swiftly and silently she crossed the courtyard to the central edifice. She flattened herself against the wall as she paused, listening again for any sign that her presence had been noticed. Satisfied that there was none, she began to work her way slowly round the building, seeking a means of entry. It wasn't long before she found one, but in finding it she was taken suddenly aback.


	3. Sonja doesn't need to break in

**III **

It was a small window at ground level, evidently designed to provide some light for a basement room. It was fitted with a wooden shutter, but this had been forced open and was now splintered and broken. Sonja examined it as closely as she could in the gloom; it seemed to her that the damage was very recent – which suggested that she was not the only one seeking to enrich themselves this night.

She paused. Discretion suggested a tactical withdrawal. Two intruders doubled the chances of the temple brethren being disturbed; and whilst it was true that temples were often the possessors of great wealth, they also tended to look unkindly on those who sought to help themselves to a portion. Discretion, however, was not part of Sonja's nature. She put her head through the window and looked down into the room. Satisfied that no-one was lying in wait for her, she jumped down.

The room was small and roughly square. It was unlit, but the door in the far wall had been left ajar, and enough light spilled though from the passage outside for Sonja to see that the room contained a number of large stone jars. Gently, she removed the lid of the nearest one. Rice. She shrugged. Priests need to eat, the same as anyone else, so temples need kitchens and store-rooms as much as they need altars.

Sonja crossed to the door and felt for the catch. It too had been forced.

She opened the door an inch or two. Beyond it was a corridor running left and right, dimly lit by a couple of torches that were burning low. The floor of the corridor was bare stone, so there was nothing to show which way the earlier intruders had turned. It seemed to Sonja, however, that by following the passage to the left she would penetrate more nearly to the heart of the temple, which was where the inner sanctum – and the loot – would most likely be found. She drew her sword and proceeded cautiously. She was uneasy. Her mouth was dry and the muscles of her stomach felt knotted and twisted. Some instinctive voice – and after long experience she'd learned to trust such a voice – was telling her that whatever befell this night it would be far from straightforward.

After twenty paces or so, the passage turned to the right, and became wider. There were more torches here; and the walls were lined with statues of squatting figures, either crudely done or so age-worn that the features had almost vanished back into the stone. At the end of the passage was a brass door with a large ring set into it. Sonja examined it, but saw nothing to show whether or not it, too, had been interfered with. She laid hold of the ring and pulled the door open just enough for her to squeeze through.

The room beyond was, without doubt, the heart of the temple. This was evident from its sheer scale – it must have been thirty paces from side to side, and possibly more lengthways. The vault of its ceiling was lost in shadow, but it was clearly lofty. Torches burned here, too; but only a few, so that they merely teased the darkness without banishing it. Even in the half-light, however, the most significant feature of the chamber was quite obvious. A huge statue of a squatting or sitting figure, executed with the same apparent crudeness of those in the corridor.

The stone figure had its back to her. Sonja had presumably entered through the priests' entrance. The worshippers, when they come, would no doubt abase themselves before the statue's face, which was the logical place for the altar to be. Still Sonja hesitated. There was no sign of the previous intruder. Had he been and gone already? If he had, Sonja reflected, it would be just her luck if he'd taken _all_ the loot, leaving nothing for her.

Sonja crept forward, and laid her left hand on the statue or idol or whatever it was. Even through the leather of her gauntlet, it felt unnaturally cold. Sonja waited. All her instincts screamed at her to wait, so she did. There was a strange smell in the air that she couldn't place; possibly some form of incense with a sharp tang, almost metallic. And there were voices. Two voices. Distant and faint, but just audible if she concentrated. She could catch no words; neither could she tell which direction they were coming from, since the chamber added a reverberative tone to them.

The voices ceased abruptly. Then silence for a long moment, then voices again; no longer faint but lung-busting bellows of rage – followed by a sound that always sent Sonja's pulse racing. The clash of steel.


	4. Sonja lends a hand

**IV**

Red Sonja itched to join the fight, but before she could decide whether she ought to or not, the fight came to her. In the right-hand wall of the chamber, a previously-unnoticed door burst open. Two figures burst through, carrying a chest between them. One of them carried a torch in his free hand, but was looking back over his shoulder as he ran, and stumbled as a consequence, bringing down himself, his companion and the chest in one clattering heap. A third figure now came through the doorway; a figure wielding a sword in a frenzied arc, beating a fighting retreat. Sonja was inwardly acknowledging the skill of his swordsmanship when she realised that it was not a he but a she – the woman who had held her gaze in the tavern.

Pursuing her was a knot of temple guardians or some such. They were armed with spears with which they thrust at the woman. It would have been a short fight but for the fact that none of the guards wanted to be the _first_ to close with so obviously expert an enemy. Even so, the woman was forced to give ground step by step.

Sonja could see what was about to happen, and acting on instinct rather than conscious thought, she was already rushing forward when the woman reached her sprawling companions, tripped and fell backwards. One of the acolytes gave a scream of triumph, leapt onto the chest and raised his spear on high, ready to plunge it into the heart of the defenceless figure beneath him. He never got the chance. So intent was he on his own triumphant thrust that he didn't even see Sonja's sword coming, and his scream as it clove clean through both his spear and his arm was one of surprise as much as pain and terror. His nearest comrade was equally slow to defend himself, and Sonja's blade was in his neck before he'd even considered a parry. He fell without a sound. The rest of the temple's defenders turned tail, fighting each other to be first back through the door.

Sonja let them go, and turned to the threesome who were disentangling themselves and getting to their feet.

The woman raised her sword in salute. "Thank-you. I'm Diana. These two idiots are Rai and The Python. I believe you called yourself Red Sonja?"

"I did. What's in the chest?"

"Enough for you to buy your own drinks from now until the end of time. I suppose you're entitled to a quarter."

"A half."

The woman smiled. "You've got a nerve."

"Thanks to me, you've still got a head," Sonja told her. In truth, she had only intended to steal as much as she could fit into her pouch, which, if the chest was full, would not have amounted to a hundredth part of its contents. Still, principles were principles.

The two women locked eyes for a moment, each sizing the other up. Rai and The Python did and said nothing. Decision-making clearly wasn't their role. Then a bell started ringing somewhere in the temple.

"That's an alarm," Sonja observed drily.

"So it is," Diana returned. "We should leave."

"Not until we've reached an agreement."

"We haven't got much time."

"So decide fast."

Diana rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Do you want to get us both killed? How about a third?"

"Agreed. Which is the fastest way out of here?"

This proved to be back through the storeroom. The Python, the smaller of Diana's two companions, seemed to scuttle up the wall like a spider and was through the window in a heartbeat. Rai passed the chest up to him, then stood with his back to the wall and cupped his palms. Diana put her foot in them and was propelled upwards. After a moment's hesitation, Sonja copied her example, noting as she did so that Rai was extremely strong. Indeed, he reminded her of a certain Cimmerian who'd crossed her path once or twice.

Diana and The Python reached back through the window to help Rai up, and the four of them crossed the courtyard. Sonja was expecting a repeat performance at the wall, but instead Diana led the way to a small postern gate which could be unbolted from the inside. Outside it, three horses were waiting indifferently.

"Do you have a horse?" Diana asked.

"Yes. A hundred paces that way."

"Come on, then."

Sonja experienced a moment of doubt, fearing that Diana and her companions would ride off whilst she was fetching her mount, but it seemed that once Diana made a bargain, she kept it; and the four were soon mounted, Rai and the Python still holding the chest between them.

"Time to leave town," Diana said. "There's a place we can hole up just outside the walls." Without waiting for a reply, she galloped into the night.


	5. Sonja shares a bed

**V**

Afterwards, Sonja could never work out how far they'd travelled. As well as dark and moonless, the night was filled with an unseasonal fog. There was a piercing chill in the air as well, causing Sonja to wrap her cloak tightly about herself.

They rode on. They'd galloped through the east gate of the city (a gate which stood open, and at which no watchman seemed to be on duty – a detail which perplexed Sonja when she reflected on it later); but soon slowed to a walk. Clearly Diana had no fear of pursuit.

They plodded on. If horses can ever be said to trudge, then they trudged. Sonja had no idea where they were going; she just kept her horse's nose pointed at the tail of Diana's. She shivered, despite the cloak. The fog grew thicker, and seemed to coil itself about them which Sonja found disquieting. Droplets of moisture formed in her hair, and a numb feeling crept into her fingers and toes. For reasons she could not fathom, she felt desperately weary. Certainly she'd only had a few hours' sleep, but that was hardly a new experience. Her body had long grown accustomed to privation, and had developed reserves which Sonja was able to tap at will. Nevertheless, she found herself nodding as she rode, and it became an effort merely to remain in the saddle.

For this reason, Sonja could not tell whether they'd ridden for a single hour or to the gates of dawn. When Diana finally called a halt, she roused herself with an effort, and looked about her. They had arrived at a nondescript, single-storey building, standing by itself in countryside that seemed otherwise empty. Sonja dismounted, suffered The Python to lead her horse into what she presumed were the stables, and followed Diana through the main door.

The inside of the building was unimpressive. What was not bare was shabby and tawdry. Diana opened a door and gestured inside. "We sleep here tonight."

Sonja looked through the doorway. The room was small, and contained a bed which, at a pinch, might have been considered big enough for two. There was a small candle already burning.

"_We_ sleep here?" Sonja asked.

"Well, I do," replied Diana, who was already sitting on the end of the bed and pulling off her boots. "You can share the other room with Rai and The Python if you like. After their stupidity tonight, I'm not really in the mood for either of them, but I'm sure they'd be happy to oblige you if you ask. They're quite talented, actually. Rai has marginally the better technique, but The Python is surprisingly – well, I leave you to guess how he acquired his nickname." Diana looked into Sonja's face and saw her horrified expression. "No?" she asked. "Well then; your choices are half of this bed or the whole of the floor."

By this time Diana had stripped off her leather riding-gear and, wearing nothing but a linen loincloth, got into bed. She rolled onto her side, so that she had her back to Sonja's half of the bed. Sonja hesitated. The floor was hard and bare and cold; the bed, on the other hand, though far from luxurious, did at least promise to be warm and comfortable.

A fresh wave of weariness came over her, and she yawned hugely. Hades take it, she thought, as she pulled back a corner of the blanket.

"Of course, if you _are_ going to join me," Diana said without looking at her, "you can damn well take your boots and armour off. I don't fancy having bits of steel digging into me all night. And blow the candle out."

Sonja hesitated for a moment, then shrugged inwardly. But she blew the candle out first, then stripped. It wasn't that she was self-conscious about her body or prone to embarrassment – if she had been, she would never have walked the Earth half-naked for so many years. But she did feel _vulnerable_ without her armour, and preferred to remove it in the dark. Beneath it, she too wore a loincloth – of soft leather. She got into bed and pulled the blanket up to her chin.

She lay on her back, keeping an inch between herself and Diana, whose slow and rhythmic breathing suggested that she was already asleep. Though desperately tired, Sonja lay wakeful for a long while. She tried to remember when she'd last shared a bed with anyone. It must have been before that awful day when her life had changed for ever; since when she'd shunned anything resembling intimate company. Now though, as the mattress moulded itself to her shape and she felt herself warmed by the heat radiating from Diana, she began to feel that she'd been missing something. The long hours of the night could be bitter and lonely when she was curled up alone under a hedge. Perhaps there was something to be said for – well, companionship and shared warmth at least. She had no use for Rai and The Python, but perhaps Diana…

On which thought, Red Sonja fell asleep.


	6. Sonja gets a shock on waking

**VI**

Consciousness returned slowly. This was unusual for red Sonja who, for reasons associated with the perilous paths she so often walked, usually went from sound asleep to fully alert in less than a heartbeat. On this occasion, however, she lay for a while in drowsy half-wakefulness, aware that the bed was still snug and warm, and unwilling to leave it. She felt gently with her hand, and found that she was alone. Her ears picked up the soft sounds of Diana moving about the room.

Still with her eyes closed, she stretched languorously, letting out a long half-moan of pleasure.

"Stay in bed as long as you like, sleepy-head," she heard Diana say. "I don't mind." A slight smile curved Sonja's mouth. She gingerly opened one eye – and then sat bolt upright.

"What in the name of Tarim do you think you're doing?" she exclaimed.

Diana looked at her, a playful smile on her lips. "Do you think it becomes me?"

"Becomes you? That's _my_ armour. Take it off right now." Sonja got out of bed. Her sword was still lying where she'd left it. She drew it from its scabbard and pointed it at Diana, who did not seem in any way perturbed.

"I wish I had a mirror. I must look striking; though I do wonder about its actual usefulness in a fight."

"I said take it _off!_"

Diana seemed unperturbed by Sonja's fury. "It's a little snug about the hips, but I suppose a slight adjustment could be made. But…" she frowned, "I would imagine it would start to chafe after a while. Does it not chafe you? Or are you used to it?" She gave a small laugh as something occurred to her. "You must be the only person I've ever met who takes their clothes to a blacksmith to be mended. Oh, do stop waving that sword about. You can't hurt me anyway. Not here."

These last few words were spoken in a very different tone of voice. Her earlier remarks had been light and frivolous, even if overlaid with a hint of mockery; but that suddenly changed to something dark and threatening. Diana's expression changed, too. Her eyes darkened, and her features became stern.

Sonja's blood chilled. Her sense of danger told her that she'd walked into a trap, though she couldn't see how it would spring. She tightened her grip on her sword.

"Who are you?"

"I told you, I'm Diana."

"That's just a name. What are you?"

"Don't you know?"

"Not yet. Take my armour off."

"Make me."

Sonja raised her sword to strike, then hesitated. Despite the many stories that had been told about her, she was not a cold-blooded killer. She had spilled an ocean of blood, to be sure, but she could not bring herself to strike down someone who was unarmed and making no move to defend herself, and who had done her no actual harm.

"Just take the armour off"

"No."

"I don't want to kill you."

"You won't."

"This is your last chance."

"Oh please…" There was a sound like a cracking whip and Sonja felt herself flying backwards. She landed on the bed, momentarily confused. There was a pain in her jaw and a drop of blood from a split lip trickled into her mouth. Diana had obviously struck her, but with more force than could possibly have been natural. And she'd move so fast – Sonja hadn't even been aware of the blow until after it had landed.

She looked at Diana, who was now standing by the open door, a superior expression on her face. She put two fingers in her mouth and gave a piercing whistle. Immediately, Rai and The Python appeared at her back.

"Bring her," Diana said, and walked away.


	7. Sonja fails to slice someone in two

**VII**

Sonja pushed all thought of mystery out of her mind – matters were now simple. There were two men before her who clearly wished her ill. She had no qualms about striking _them_; and even if she was still wearing nothing but a loincloth, she still had her sword.

"Go on then," she said. "Bring me. Or try to."

Rai and The Python said nothing. Indeed, it occurred to Sonja that she'd not heard either of them utter a word. Lacking though they might have been in conversational skills, however, they didn't suffer from self-doubt when faced with a solitary woman. They advanced into the room, Rai circling one way, The Python the other, so that Sonja would be forced to divide her attention. Neither had drawn any weapon, though each had a sword at their hip. Sonja hefted her sword. The bed took up most of the space in the room, but she reckoned she still had just enough room to work with. In a sudden blur of movement, she flicked her blade in a feint towards The Python, the spun on her heel, raising her sword on high with both hands on the hilt. At the last moment she realised that something was wrong. Rai's eyes were blank, expressionless, which no man's eyes should be when he had no defence against a blade that was about to come down on him in full force.

Sonja brought her blade down on Rai. And gasped.

The sword struck him on the left shoulder. By rights, it ought to have sliced through flesh and bone until it had embedded itself somewhere in his ribs. Instead, it just bounced. For a moment, Sonja was stupefied. Rai was wearing a leather jerkin; toughened to be sure, but in no way capable of withstanding two and a half feet of tempered steel, honed to a razor-sharp edge. And even if he was somehow wearing armour underneath he ought at least to have reeled from the blow. Instead he just stood there as if he'd been struck by a feather, his eyes as expressionless as before.

For a fraction too long, Sonja tried to fathom the mystery before her – a fraction which allowed The Python to grab her from behind. His arms passed under hers, and wrapped themselves around her chest. With one hand he seized his other wrist; then he squeezed. He was immensely strong – far stronger than any man ought to be, and Sonja feared that her ribs would not stand the strain. She drove her left elbow into his torso, and stamped down on his instep, neither of which had any effect.

Then Rai stepped forwards. He caught Sonja's sword-arm in a massive fist, and twisted until Sonja thought her bones would snap. Her sword clattered to the floor. Then Rai punched her in the stomach. It was like a ram built to stave in castle gates. All the breath was driven from Sonja's body, so that there was none left for her to scream with. Strange lights danced before her eyes. Through her pain, she was aware of Rai drawing back his fist to strike her again. She tried to kick out at him, but Rai caught her leg easily. The Python lifted Sonja slightly off the ground, and Rai wrapped his free arm round her other leg, completing both her capture and her humiliation. For a moment she feared that her two assailants – so demonically strong that they couldn't possibly be mortal – would tear her asunder, but they seemed satisfied with their catch. Though she fought and cursed, they carried her with little effort through the door and into…

Sonja stopped struggling. Her eyes opened wide with astonishment. "What sorcery is this?"


End file.
